


Specters of Memory

by Subtly Spectre (fishstic)



Series: Practical Diplomacy [2]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, In a universe where thoughts and feelings are Shepard's worst enemy, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26976640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishstic/pseuds/Subtly%20Spectre
Summary: After a mission goes horribly wrong, Erin Shepard wants only one of two things: either to be left alone for the rest of the night so she can pretend like nothing hurts her, or for Jack to come talk her into going to the Afterlife again. Neither of those things particularly happen, though Jack does show up. She's only there to talk, but some part of Erin really wishes it was more than that--and maybe that part isn't too wrong to think it could be.
Relationships: Jack | Subject Zero/Female Shepard
Series: Practical Diplomacy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1488266
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Specters of Memory

The laughter. If you asked Commander Erin Shepard what the worst part of her day was, it was the laughter. She'd tell you it was worse than when the mercenary pinned her down with his hand on her shoulder. She'd tell you it was worse than having a man twice her size pushing his knee into the small of her back, or pressing a gun to the base of her skull.

The worst part was his laughter. He was close enough she could feel the scratch of his stubble against the shaved part of her undercut when he spoke in her ear. His voice was grating and raspy, a sound worse than those she'd heard when the Normandy was destroyed. It was the way his breath stank like moldy onions, cheap booze, and even cheaper cigars. 

The day could get worse, it usually did. For that reason, she'd also tell you she was fine. It was a lie, but she'd never admit it.

They'd returned to the SR2-Normandy, determined to finish their task the next day when the shops were open, and they'd be able to get information more easily. Erin headed to her room, closing herself in, alone, forgetting to tell EDI to inform anyone who asked that she didn't want to be bothered.

As she'd walked in, she'd noticed for the first time since it happened, just how badly her helmet had been damaged when the mercenary's friend—the first casualty of the fight—had smashed the butt of his rifle against it. The mercenary had pulled the helmet off her when he wrestled her to the ground. If he hadn't—well, maybe she wouldn't have such a headache now.

She needed to fix the helmet; it was her favorite. So, she sat with it at her desk, facing the display wall of model ships she collected and hoping to work on it. Twice she tried to do something with it and _twice_ she was distracted.

 _"You sure you're an N7, kid? Not very good at fighting!"_ The mercenary's gratingly laughed final words were pretty much all that were in her head, forcing out any memory of how to use the omnitool to repair her stuff. Peeking out somewhere below those words, quieter, were older painful words. " _You sure you're a fighter? Can't ever fight your way away from me, Sunshine. Might as well stop trying."_

She gritted her teeth and shook her head, glancing at herself in the glass behind the models, hoping not to see more tears in her eyes. Instead, she saw Jack. Jack, who had—for the first time in a long time—washed the blood off her face and changed her clothes after returning to the ship. She was wearing the shirt and leather jacket that Erin had given her after their last mission.

"Shepard, I—" Jack began.

Erin shook her head and cut her off by holding the helmet up. Normally her name 'Erin' would be visible at the angle she held it, but it was too damaged to be seen anymore. It was almost symbolic, but of what she wasn't sure she wanted to know. "I've asked you to call me Erin. But if you're here to ask, I'm _fine_. Don't worry about me, Jack. I'm Commander Shepard, Savior of the Citadel. It would take more than _one_ mercenary to _break_ me." Almost as though to prove her a liar, a piece of the helmet's outer shell came off and bounced harmlessly off the top of her head.

For a brief moment of tense silence following that statement, Erin thought Jack _might_ have gotten the hint that she wanted to be alone. That, too, was a lie, but she didn’t feel right admitting she often longed for Jack’s company. They were friends, but that was _all_ they were. Then Jack shook her head, and Erin knew she couldn’t deceive her into leaving with such obviously false statements.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, _Erin,_ ” Jack replied. “That wasn’t fucking _fine._ You might be able to lie to all the others and have them believe you, but don’t fucking try it on me. It _won’t_ work.”

Erin winced slightly. Jack was always so direct, and ‘fucking’ seemed to be her favorite word. Even caring as much as she did for Jack, sometimes that bothered her. The worry really shouldn’t have been a surprise either, since Jack was the one who freed her from the pin by shooting the mercenary, but Erin was _tired,_ and her head hurt like hell. “I...” she fell short of saying anything.

“I _saw_ you, Erin,” Jack continued. “You were _crying_. You were... and still are, actually... _bleeding_. That’s not fucking _fine._ You’re not _fine,_ Erin.”

“It hurts,” Erin replied. Probably not the revolutionary answer Jack might have been hoping for, but it was a start, and very decidedly not a lie.

“I thought it might,” Jack replied. “There a reason you came in here to fix your smashed up helmet instead of going to get Dr. Chakwas to fix your smashed up head?”

Erin _almost_ nodded. As soon as she had moved her head even a _fraction_ of an inch, it practically _exploded_ in pain. She felt the blood on her neck, the hot sticky spot in her hair, the pressure and then distinct lack of pressure all over, the dizziness, the nausea. She’d been hit in the head before, but this was different. The ghost of what should have been a killing blow. “This helmet saved my life.”

“Wouldn’t any helmet have done that?” Jack replied. “Why’s this one so special?”

Erin could have sworn there was a softness to Jack’s voice that wasn’t normally there. She didn’t mention it, even though bringing up Jack’s feelings was usually the easiest way to make her leave. “Come over here, I’ll show you.”

To her surprise, Jack _did_ walk over to her. She really needed to stop being surprised at this point, especially with her faint hope they could... no, she shouldn’t hope about that. They’re _just friends._ She was sure Jack had made that clear at some point, but she couldn’t exactly remember when or why.

For a second, she contemplated just handing over the helmet and fleeing to the relatively unquestioning safety of Dr. Chakwas’ office. Instead, she held up the helmet - upside down - and pointed at the edge where the layers were visible.

“Most helmets have only two layers, this one has four. The outer layer of carbon fiber shattered,” she said as she pointed toward the damaged section next. “The layer of carbon steel under that compressed downward, cracking the foam layer under it. That compression _broke_ the innermost layer, a foam-covered kinetic steel meshing. Several pieces of the metal mesh got _severed_ ,” as she explained that, she noticed that the broken mesh was coated in dried blood, “which I think is what cut my head. I don’t know if that happened when the blow happened or when the... when... when the helmet was removed.”

The base of her skull ached with the memory of the mercenary pulling her helmet off so she could hear him clearly as he pressed his gun against her. She shivered at the thought. “It’s special. Made specifically to prevent headshots from necessarily being deadly. Guess it also worked on blunt force hits. I _need_ to fix it. My other helmets don’t fit properly.”

Jack put her hand on the helmet and Erin turned, very slowly, to look at her. Pointedly, she noticed, Jack didn’t speak until she was looking her in the eyes. “I’ll help you fix this if you come with me and get your head wound treated.”

It was, perhaps, the _lack_ of cussing in the statement that had given her the most concern about what Jack might have been thinking. “Why?” She wasn’t sure if she was more questioning Jack volunteering to help fix the helmet or her insistence upon seeing a doctor for her wound.

“If you die in your sleep after I killed that fucking guy who made you fucking cry, I’ll never forgive you or your fucking ghost,” Jack replied. She sighed when Erin raised a brow in confusion and continued, “What do you want me to fucking say? You’re Commander Erin fucking Shepard, Savior of the fucking Citadel. You’re a goddamn hero, Erin. We’re going after the Collectors and we can’t do that without you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

What she _wanted_ to hear was Jack admit she cares, but that was pretty close to the same thing. Getting her to actually use the words ‘I care’ would probably take a miracle. She bit her lip for a moment and decided. She couldn't be mad that Jack wanted to be sure she wasn't going to die. Could she? “What I meant was, why help me fix the helmet? It’s just a stupid piece of replaceable armor.”

“Because it’s _not just_ a piece of armor to you,” Jack replied. “Especially not a _replaceable one_. I might not be a sentimental person myself, but I do fucking recognize that sentimental shit is important to other people. This helmet,” she patted it for emphasis, “is really fucking important to you. More important than... well, that’s something we can talk about later. The helmet means safety to you, means something _important_. It’s really fucking special, right? Expensive too, I’d bet. Probably cost you more than a night at Afterlife, and that’s saying something since I’m pretty sure Aria charges you double for being prettier than her.”

“She... you think I’m prettier than her?” Erin replied.

“Yeah... but don’t read too much into that,” Jack replied. “Focus on important things. Like standing up.” She moved her hand from the helmet to the back of the chair. “Unless you _want_ me to fucking drag you down there in this chair.”

Erin sighed and stood up, placing the helmet on the desk. “I...” she bit her lip. If the chair had wheels, she might have admitted she wouldn’t have minded _not_ having to _walk_ down there. “The helmet is very special to me. When we get back, and are working on it, I might even tell you why.”

She hated seeing the doctor, as stupid as that was. Growing up she’d wanted to _be_ a doctor herself. She had enough smarts, but never got the education or opportunity. As a result, she’d learned to patch herself up and going to a doctor felt like an admission of failure even though she _knew_ there were injuries she couldn’t treat herself. Plus, Dr. Chakwas always had a way of making her feel like she’d made a mistake by getting hurt, even if she rarely asked questions about _how_ she’d gotten hurt. She had grumbled and complained to Jack about the admittedly accurate assessment and treatment of her injury the _entire time_ they were walking back to her room.

“Sometimes I don’t understand you,” Jack said as they sat down to work on the helmet. “You trained to be an emergency field medic, but you _hate_ going to a doctor when you get hurt.”

Erin frowned as she poked at the helmet. Could it even be fixed? She wasn't sure. Dr. Chakwas had spent _an hour_ lecturing her about the dangers of head injuries—as if she hadn't already taught her all about it when training her during the Geth War. Dr. Chakwas had said she was 'lucky' the injuries had been fixable. Perhaps the helmet wasn't so lucky. "If I have to see a doctor, too many things have gone wrong," she replied. "Doctors always have _opinions_ about my injuries."

“Do you want _my_ opinion?” Jack asked.

Erin opened her mouth to reply but stopped. Did she want to hear this? Jack might also be about to lecture her about how stupid it was that she didn’t have someone guarding her position. “Are you going to lecture me too?”

“My opinion,” Jack replied, “is that you avoid getting your injuries treated because you hate thinking about how they happened.”

Erin froze, one finger on the helmet and the rest of her leaning on the desk. That statement was something she would have expected from Kelly—since that kind of observation was literally _her job_ —not Jack. What did Jack hope to gain from that observation? It was... mostly true, but why question it now?

“What makes you say that?” Her question might have been more convincing if she’d made it immediately. Silence was always very telling.

“You’re avoiding the topic, not just with me. You did your best to avoid telling the doctor what happened as well,” Jack replied. “I get it. You don’t like to talk, I get that. But, specifically with things that hurt, you... dance around the topic, picking anything else to talk about. You try to bury all the painful shit and pretend like you’re some kind of fucking superhero. Like nothing anyone has ever did hurt you. I get it, I really do. Talking hurts. Remembering hurts. Why do you always fucking pretend like nothing hurts you?”

“Because...” _Don’t fucking lie to me._ “Compared to what other people have been through, the things that hurt me don’t matter. They’re nothing.” She shouldn’t have cared how angry another lie would have made Jack. It shouldn’t have mattered. But she did, it mattered. A lot, if she were going to stop the lies. If she could stop lying to herself. It mattered, she cared. She loved Jack, of course she cared about not making her angry.

Jack frowned. That hurt almost as much as the injury that had started the conversation. "Shepard...Erin, you _literally_ died. That's not nothing. What happened today wasn't _nothing._ Whatever happened to you in the past that caused you to _cry_ when that merc called you a shit fighter before I shot him wasn't _nothing._ "

Erin winced. Telling her truth had made Jack angrier than if she'd kept up the lie. There was no winning. "You don't understand." But did she understand either? She was, as Jack put it, 'a goddamn hero' she should have been above that kind of pain. What kind of savior would she be if she _broke_ before her job was finished?

"Then help me understand," Jack replied. "Something happened to you in the past."

A lot happened in the past. Her entire life was 'in the past.' But now wasn't the time to try to lighten the mood with a snarky joke, even one at her own expense. Probably _especially_ with one at her own expense.

"Something bad, right?"

She nodded, almost without realizing it. So much of what she'd gone through, especially before she turned 16, and as a soldier, was bad. They had called her a hero. The last man standing, never mind the fact that she was neither a man nor capable of standing when she'd been evac'd from Akuze. The Normandy was destroyed while she was onboard. Like most soldiers, those things haunted her.

"You were a child, teen, young woman—"

All three, depending on if Jack was looking for a specific bad memory. Was she trying to find out the reason behind the tears?

"You didn't ask for whatever it was, but it happened and made you angry—"

"No, it didn't," Erin interrupted. But was that true, or a belief born of a lie and the refusal to see a therapist? She’d promised Kelly, but never seemed like a good time. She’d never really been an angry person, so it could have been true.

“That’s why none of this matters.” If that were true, why did she feel the need to defend her dismissal of her own feelings?

“That’s why...why this is a problem. Why none of this is important. Why nothing hurts me. Why all of it is nothing.” Kelly would have her hands full with her if she ever heard any of this.

“If it was something, if it _had_ hurt me, I’d be angry. I’d hate the people that did it to me. But I’m not, and I don’t, so none of this matters. So, none of it was really all _that_ bad.” Did she really not hate the man who had hurt her so much growing up, or could she just not _remember_ hating him? Sometimes she wasn’t sure that she really did have all the same memories she’d had before she died.

Jack tilted her head. “You admitted it’s a problem in the same argument as trying to convince me it’s not a problem at all.”

“I... know,” Erin replied. “It’s... I... Kelly made me promise I’d talk to her about my... what did she call it ‘clear cut case of post-traumatic stress disorder.’ I... never did. I know it’s a problem.”

“If you know it’s a problem, why are you trying so hard to convince yourself it’s not?” Jack replied.

 ~~Because if it weren’t a problem, it wouldn’t hurt anymore.~~ That was bullshit, and she knew it. “I... if it really hurt me, I would be angry. The specific thing you’re trying to make me talk about—”

“Let me make this perfectly fucking clear, Erin, because we’re friends... that is what you called us when you punched the drunk in Afterlife that tried to pick a fight with me, after all. I am not trying to _force_ you to do anything,” Jack replied. “If you want to tell me about what happened to you in the past, that’s your choice. I won’t fucking _make_ you tell me if it’s something you’re clearly not comfortable talking about.”

“The situation you want to hear about, please don’t pretend like you’re not trying to figure out why I was crying,” Erin said, “It’s just... I don’t... I haven’t figured out in my head whether or not it’s okay to be upset by it or not.” That was also only half true. Logically she knew it was okay to be upset by it, she just hadn’t figured out if she had always been upset by it or if that was more recent.

“It made you cry,” Jack noted. “Seems pretty clear that it made you upset.”

“I...” Well put like that it made sense. But... did she trust Jack not to judge her for it? “I told you I would tell you how I got the helmet.”

“You said you’d tell me why it’s special,” Jack replied. “Is that related?”

“Sort of,” Erin replied. She couldn’t actually do this, could she? She’d never admitted it to anyone after the mercenaries she ran with back on Earth, it hadn’t mattered. It had hurt, but it hadn’t mattered. “I don’t know how much you know about me, anything more than what I told you about being a trained emergency field medic?”

“Tali said you mentioned running with mercs before you joined the Alliance,” Jack replied. “I made it a point _not_ to read your file.”

“Wasn’t it my file that you were reading when I invited you to come to Afterlife yesterday?” Whoever’s file it was, Jack had certainly been quick enough to hide it when she walked up.

“No, that was Miranda’s,” Jack replied. “Look, I’m not going to fucking lie to you right now, okay? Some other time when it’s less important maybe, but not right now.”

Erin nodded, thankfully Dr. Chakwas had been able to make her headache mostly go away. “Right, I’m sorry. I’m... I’m probably a bit too used to people I care about lying to me.” She shouldn’t have said that. Jack didn’t need to know she cared, there was already enough probability that Jack was going to leave when their main mission was over, and the collectors were no longer a threat. There was no reason to go scaring her away early by bringing feelings into the friendship. “I did run with mercs. I... lie to myself about my life before them, but it was with them that I got that helmet design. Not specifically that helmet, this one is an improved version based on the original one I had.”

“Did the mercs hurt you? Is that what—”

“No, they would _never_ ,” Erin interrupted a bit more harshly than she’d expected. They were her _family_ no one, not even the woman she has a crush on, was allowed to talk bad about her family.

“What do you remember?” Jack replied. “Someone clearly hurt you. I want to know who I need to beat the shit out of.”

“His... his name was Marshal,” Erin replied. She shouldn’t be talking about this. It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter anymore, as far as she knew, he was dead. “And he was the man I lived with before the mercs saved me.”

Jack nodded. For a moment, she didn’t say anything. She seemed to be waiting for something, a continuation of that story, maybe.

“It hurts to talk about this,” Erin said, turning toward Jack and moving the hand that was on her helmet, to rest on Jack’s arm instead. “I don’t want you to get angry if I tell you what happened. I... I’m not mad at him, I... I deserved what happened. I loved him; it was clearly a mistake. I should have been smarter than that. I should have... I could... I moved in with him when I was seven and he was seventeen. It was _stupid._ I was stupid. I... clearly I haven’t gotten any better at picking men, considering the last guy I had a crush on _died_ following my own orders.”

She bit her lip, trying not to cry, but Jack’s stony silence through that was difficult, to say the least. “I don’t want you to be angry. I... I don’t think I know _how_ to be angry anymore. Please, Jack. Say _something._ I can’t do this if I’m the only one talking.” When Jack didn’t immediately reply, she started to stand, pulling her hand away from Jack’s arm. “This was a bad idea, maybe I should just go.”

Jack put one hand firmly on her shoulder, holding her down, and brushed one of Erin’s tears away with the other. “Erin don’t be fucking stupid. This is your room. Where the fuck would you go if you left? You want me to comment, I can comment. I’m not angry at you, I’m angry _for_ you. You were a _child._ No matter how you phrase it or try to write off what happened between you and him as a mistake. You were a fucking _child._ There’s no excuse for him harming a child in any way. Especially not if what I think you’re trying to tell me is what actually happened. You’re scared. I’m not a fucking expert, like Kelly, but pretty sure being scared of what happened means it hurt you just as much as if you were angry about it.”

“How would you know?” Erin asked, doing her absolute best not to cry any more. A feat made incredibly difficult by the pressure on her shoulder. Held without permission... held against her will... but this _wasn’t_ against her will, was it? If she didn’t want to be held, she could push Jack’s hand away. Couldn’t she? “Everything you went through made you angry.”

“I lied for you,” Jack replied, distinctly not an answer.

Erin sniffled and tilted her head. She... lied. Hadn’t she promised not to lie? What had she lied about? And did she lie to her or someone else. “What?”

“When Miranda asked if she was right about thinking she saw tears in your eyes when we pulled you off the ground,” Jack explained, removing her hand from Erin’s shoulder, and motioning vaguely in the direction of Miranda’s office. “I lied for you. Told her you must have just gotten dust in them or were just in pain from your obvious head wound. Told her to mind her own fucking business and that if you wanted her to know what happened, you’d tell her.”

“Why?” Erin asked, aware that Jack had let her go, but still feeling the ghost of the touch. Her shoulder ached. Would there ever really be a time it wouldn’t? That was the shoulder she rests her rifle against when aiming. The shoulder _everyone_ always reached for if they wanted to touch her, to hold her. It hurt. She’d never really wanted to be touched, had she? “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Jack replied. “That’s what friends do. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what friends are supposed to do. I’m not a fucking expert on friendship. You listened to me. You stood up for me when no one else would have. You let me blow the place I grew up off the fucking map. I might not be good at showing it, but that meant a lot to me. And this thing, what you and I are talking about right now. It means a lot to you, even if you don’t realize it or don’t _want_ to realize it. I’m not going to let Miranda try to _force_ you to talk to her about this. I already told you I’m not going to _force_ you to talk about it either. You asked me to talk, so you wouldn’t be talking alone, and that’s what I’m doing.”

Erin stared in silence for a moment, trying to count her breathing maybe match it to Jack’s. She wasn’t sure why, but that was what Liara and Dr. Chakwas always had her do with them when she would have a nightmare back when she was fighting Saren. If it helped any, she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to tell. “Marshal told me he _loved_ _me_.” It was a start. “That was why I stayed for so long. I wanted to believe him. I wanted it to be true so hard that I convinced myself it was. As far as I can remember, I’m an orphan. I don’t remember much about my family before Marshal, before the mercs. When the mercs rescued me, it was... I...”

Surely, she had to remember this. It was one of the most important events of her childhood. “I stole a rifle from them. They confronted me. I vaguely remember giving the rifle back, it made Marshal so angry that I gave up. I asked the mercs not to kill me. There was a... woman? There was someone, no wait it was _two_ people. There were two people with them that held a strong physical resemblance to me. They said they’d been tracking me for a while. Following rumors. Introduced themselves as Mica and Albert, my siblings. It was because of them that the mercs not only left me alive but wouldn’t let me leave them. I didn’t... why don’t I...” She bit her lip and sighed deeply. “If Miranda survives this suicide mission remind me to punch her for not making sure I remember my own family.”

“There are _other_ Shepards like you running around somewhere?” Jack asked, there was a strange tone to her voice that Erin couldn’t quite place. Almost like she already knew that and was only pretending to be shocked. “I don’t think the galaxy can handle that many Shepards.”

“I don’t know where Albert is now,” Erin replied. “After a while, the mercs started calling him ‘Nire’ a nickname that was just my nickname backwards. I’m not sure but I think Mica is just a nickname too. Nire is... he’s my twin brother. Mica lives on Illium with her girlfriend, Liara. They met because of me.”

“Tali never mentioned you have siblings,” Jack replied. “But if Albert is your twin, he might be the ‘Shepard’ in Engineering that looks exactly like you but with long hair.”

Erin nodded. Why would she? She never brought it up with Tali. Garrus on the other hand, she was fairly sure she’d told him about it. But she couldn’t remember _why_. “Why were you asking Tali about me? Wait...” She thought about that last part.

Miranda hadn’t bothered to introduce her to the crew, but Joker had. He’d introduced her to the people in Engineering, she’d beat some of them at poker once. But ‘Shepard’ who insisted he wasn’t at all related to her, had declined every chance she’d taken to try to speak to him. The couple times she’d managed to get him to look at her, had felt a bit like looking into a mirror. “Shit, you’re _right._ I really am going to have to hit Miranda over this.”

If she weren’t entirely sure that the idea Jack might _actually_ like her that way was something akin to the idea she could touch a star without getting burned, she could have _sworn_ Jack blushed before answering. “It felt easier than trying to get the information from Miranda or Garrus. Miranda’s an asshole, and Garrus seems to think he’s your bodyguard or something.”

“He is,” Erin replied then paused and shook her head. “I mean, that’s what I asked him to do back when we were tracking down Saren together. I told him to watch out for me, to keep me covered. I think he took it to mean to protect me all the time. I’m not sure if he’s doing that now because he remembers, or because he doesn’t want me to die _again._ ”

After a moment, Jack nodded. “What did Marshal do, other than convince you he loved you when he was really just using you?”

“It’s...” She wasn’t sure anymore. Mica had told her that their parents had been killed. That it was Marshal’s fault. That she’d been searching for Erin for _nine years_ after. She wasn’t sure how much she believed. “My sister said he killed our parents.”

How could she maintain truth, keep from lying, when all she remembered for sure was, “Marshal taught me what sex is. I convinced myself that it meant he loved me, because that’s what he told me it meant, and I couldn’t _stand_ the thought that he would lie to me. I learned that if someone loves you, they’re going to hurt you. I... After he was gone, I stopped trying to pursue love. Or I convinced myself I had, anyway. I’m not mad at him. He took care of me.” But had he really? She vaguely remembered living in a library—or at least spending so much time in one she might as well have lived there.

“Taught me to fight—” ~~Bullshit, he taught her that fighting him was a good way to end up with a bloody nose and broken wrist.~~

“Taught me to survive—” ~~To steal, partly his lessons partly what she was forced to do when he’d claim she’d not done enough to earn her food.~~

“Taught me to use a gun—” ~~the same gun, according to Mica, that had killed their parents and would have killed her if she hadn’t turned it on him in their last fight.~~

It hurt. She bit her lip. Jack didn’t need to know. Jack probably couldn’t have actually cared. Her chest ached and her stomach was cold. His was the first life she’d ever taken, the life of her ‘first love.’ A tragedy, honestly. But he might not even be dead, she’d shot him in the head, but he could have survived. She wasn’t positive anymore, but the mercenaries had seemed certain he was dead.

She felt the sting of tears in her eyes but stopped caring. She’d told Jack what Jack had wanted to know. Jack probably didn’t even understand. “Fair turn is fair play,” she whispered, unsure where she’d first heard the phrase, it wasn’t the same as what other people used for the meaning, but aware that it had worked on Liara, Tali, _and_ Miranda to get them to answer her questions when she did favors for them. “Tell me something I don’t know about you. I’ve told you something you didn’t already know about me. It _hurt_ s.”

Jack sighed. “You’ve asked about my tattoos before. I didn’t tell you much.”

“We argued about your idea of giving me a tattoo,” Erin noted. “I... already have one. A gravestone with a name. It’s symbolic.”

“Whose name is on it?”

“Mine,” Erin replied. “As I said, symbolic. I got it after Akuze, when I was drunk enough to almost be thrown out of the Alliance military. I... wished I had died down there with my men. I was supposed to keep them safe. I _failed_. But that doesn’t matter. It hurts, but it doesn’t matter. Tell me something you haven’t told me before.”

Jack lifted her left arm, rolling up the sleeve of her jacket as she did so. Briefly, Erin wondered if Jack had thought giving her the jacket was a gesture born of being uncomfortable with nudity. It wasn’t, but it seemed reasonable Jack might think that. It would explain why Jack only ever wore the jacket when they were alone together.

She’d also given Jack two other jackets, a couple shirts, several pairs of pants, a tank top, and a leather vest. Jack usually wore the tank top and leather vest when they went out on missions. How long would it take to get Jack to understand the reason for gifting her so many clothes was because she was getting tired of stitching up the arms of the woman she loved so much? ~~Well, that and because they didn’t fit her and the store she’d ordered them from had a ‘no returns’ policy.~~ Probably longer than it took to get her to concede that Erin hadn’t said _no_ to letting Jack give her a tattoo, just ‘not yet’ because she didn’t know what she wanted.

“Her,” Jack said, motioning at the tattoo on the back of her left forearm, now exposed to the air like it normally was.

“Her?” Had Jack asked, she would have admitted that the woman pictured in the tattoo was beautiful. “Who is she?”

“The first woman I ever loved,” Jack replied. “It was a mistake. She was a mistake.”

Erin sucked in a breath. Jack _did_ understand. “You don’t trust people. Too many times that’s turned around and bit you where it hurts the most. When we came back from Pragia, you said something about not knowing what it’s like to carry the kind of trash around that you do... or something like that.”

“Something like that, yeah,” Jack replied. “You just looked at me with that same innocent fucking look of yours that you always have. Didn’t try to argue or anything. Didn’t try to tell me I was wrong. Why the _fuck_ didn’t you tell me I was wrong?”

“Haven’t you figured that out already?” Erin replied. “Your pain _matters_ , mine does not. Especially on that day. I’m not worth this trouble you’re trying to go through to help me. Because, _Jack_ , you were tortured. I was just some dumbass kid who fell in love with their rapist because she didn’t know what love is. I still don’t, probably. Not like anyone could love me and it not just be hero worship.” She closed her eyes.

“Why do you hate yourself so much?” Jack snapped. “Don’t you have any fucking idea the effect that has on how other people treat you? Believe it or not, Erin, some people actually do fucking care about you.”

Erin flinched. “I have _never_ had a date that didn’t end up with me in the bed of some man whose name I could barely remember, sometimes with my shoulder dislocated from _trying_ to prevent that outcome. I _hate_ myself because I’m weak. I’m stupid. Because when I make mistakes, people end up _dead._ I hate myself because I can’t even fucking _die_ properly.

“Because every fucking time I tried, someone had to step in and prevent it. Had to tell me: ‘that’s not the way this happens,’ ‘you’re a hero you can’t fucking die on us now,’ ‘we _need_ you, Shepard.’ And the one time I didn’t even _try_ a fucking criminal organization that spent my entire fight against Saren _trying to kill me_ brought me back to life and forced me to work for them.

“Because it if wasn’t for me, my parents would still fucking be alive.” She looked only at her hands. Jack was just trying to help. Why couldn’t she just _let_ someone help her for once?

“Because it’s so bad to need help, huh?” Jack asked. “Because you think it makes you weak that you can’t handle how much pain you’re in, how much hurt upon hurt keeps piling up on your shoulders until you break. Right? Because you think being dead will somehow make it all just go away. Being dead won’t bring your parents back, Erin. It won’t change what Marshal did to you. Being dead might make the pain stop, but it won’t solve the Collectors issue, or stop the Reapers. Being dead just means you’ll never feel anything _good_ again either.”

Erin sighed deeply. Since when did Jack _ever_ believe it was possible to feel something _good_ except in a fight? She’d certainly denied it enough before. “Because if I admit I have a problem I can’t solve on my own, what kind of _hero_ would I be? Letting the ghosts of my past continually be the thing that knocks me off my feet in a fight. Jack, I helped you. I promised I would stay with you. That I would stand by your side til the bitter fucking end. I meant it. You can’t get rid of a fucking goody-two-shoes like me that easily. Maybe after all of this is over, when it too is weighing my shoulders down. Maybe then I’ll turn around one day and ask you for a really hard favor. A favor for a favor. A life for a life. I gave you your life back, getting you out of that prison.”

She didn’t look up when Jack’s hand caressed her cheek, not until Jack used that hand under her chin to _force_ her to look up. Somewhere inside, she half expected Jack to kiss her without bothering to ask. That was what usually happened when people did that to her.

“I’m not going to fucking kill you, no matter how or _when_ you ask,” Jack replied.

Erin pulled her head away from Jack’s hand and stood up. Jack didn’t try to hold her down this time, surprisingly. She shouldn’t have been surprised anymore. Hurt maybe, but not surprised. She’d never asked Jack to promise her anything.

“Erin.”

She sighed. It probably was too much to ask. She knew Jack had always thought she was going to betray her in some way. That she couldn’t be trusted. She really hoped they’d gotten past that, but asking for a favor that... that dramatic, even if it was just in theory, was probably too much. She purposefully did not look at Jack. She’d be angry, and Erin didn’t want to deal with angry anymore. Instead, she turned away and brought her attention to her hamster’s cage.

“ _Erin_.”

Sparky needed to be fed. It was a distraction, in the long run. She glanced to the side, some of the fish were swimming around in their tank, really close to the glass, almost as if they were watching her. They were likely also hungry. That mattered. She busied herself with refilling Sparky’s food and water as Jack spoke for a third time.

“Erin, don’t fucking ignore me.”

“Don’t be so loud, you’ll frighten Sparky,” Erin replied. “I’m sorry.” But what was she apologizing for? She hadn’t really done anything _wrong_ had she? Was it so bad to assume the woman used to being betrayed would think one days she might have to kill the woman who... actually... loved her? Shit. She _did_ do something wrong. She _did. It hurt._

“Erin?” She wasn’t aware that Jack had stood up until she saw her place Sparky back in the cage. When had he crawled out? “Erin, please just talk to me.”

“I really fucked up this time,” she replied, voice strained. “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have asked that of you. Not with how hard I’ve worked to try to get you to see that you can trust me. That I’m _not_ using you. Jack, I fucked up. I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Jack shook her head. “Only if you promise to talk to Kelly. No bullshit. No lies. No ‘it didn’t seem like a good time.’ None of that shit. Promise me you’ll try to let her fucking help you. Erin, you _need_ her help.”

“I’m scared,” Erin replied. “That’s the real reason I never went to talk to her like I’d originally promised.” It hurt, but it was true. “When I was still with the Alliance, I knew many good people who lost their positions, were kicked out for falling apart like this. It takes a special kind of person to be a solider, to _stay_ a solider. Many of them _tried_ to get help and that help deemed them _unfit_ to continue serving. Several of those people ended up back on the streets with nothing to show for their time except grudges and phantoms that will _never_ quit haunting them now. A couple of them... good people, broken. I killed some of them, _we_ killed some of them. You killed one of them today.”

“The guy who pinned you?”

“He wasn’t in my unit, I barely even knew him,” Erin replied. “It was before I got accepted to the N7 program. He was a pilot, like Joker but with less attitude. A good man with a family. I don’t know what happened, a few of my unit were talking about him one day. Said how his mission had gone _terribly wrong_ and he’d come back a different man. Less than a month later, he was gone. As far as I knew, no one had seen him since. He’d been speaking with one of the psychologists, trying to fix whatever had gone wrong inside his head, or something like that. They decided he was ‘mentally unfit for duty’ and sent him back home. I recognized his voice. He used to spend every night in the mess hall telling anyone who would listen all about his son and daughter. Twins. I don’t even remember their names.”

Erin took a deep breath and smiled. It was a little forced, but it was closer to something normal than anything else she’d managed the entire day. “Sparky is trying to eat your jacket,” she said, pulling her scamp of a hamster off the leather and locking him back in the cage. “Can we make a different promise? You don’t have to forgive me, but will you stay if I promise to talk to Kelly?”

Jack glared at the hamster and the little hole he’d nibbled into the jacket sleeve. “You _owe_ me for that hole, fuzzball.” Then she looked back to Erin. “You really gonna talk to Kelly? No bullshit? No lies? I’ll stay if that’s true.”

“No lies,” Erin replied, her smile faltering. “I think I distinctly remember you saying at some point you’re not interested in... in me. That being _friends_ is the best I could _ever_ hope for with you.”

Jack narrowed her eyes for a moment, then laughed. “Oh my god, you actually fucking thought I was serious? Erin, Commander, you’re fucking hot. I’m _very_ interested in finding out what you look like out of that dumbass Cerberus uniform.” She ran her hands over Erin’s sides, very gently, tugging a bit of the shirt out from the waistband of her pants before removing her hands completely when Erin stepped back slightly. She wouldn’t go that far without permission. Would she?

“But no, at the time you brought it up. You asked if there was any chance of us being girlfriends. I’m not interested in ‘dating’ and feelings and shit like that. You want though, I can show you a thing or two about sex that might help you relax. Might... might help make you feel better.” She smiled, or maybe smirked was the better description, Erin had never been too good with words in the presence of a pretty girl who was clearly flirting with her. “I could teach you how to _properly_ get someone to fuck off if they’re doing shit you don’t want them to do.”

“You’d do that, even though you don’t care about me?” Erin replied.

“Look, if you don’t ever fucking tell anyone else I actually have ‘feelings’ other than anger, then I’ll do that _because_ I fucking care about you,” Jack replied blushing slightly—unmistakably that time.

“Oh Jack,” Erin sighed. “The others would think you’ve gone soft. I won’t tell them; I _like_ your edges. Don’t let me wear them down too much.”

“You wear down my edges and I’ll space you,” Jack replied lightly, in that tone she reserved only for when she was relaxed enough to make jokes. The tone that no one else ever got to hear. “You _and_ your dumb feelings will just fly right out with the rest of the trash, got it?” She smiled.

Erin chuckled. “That’s not the worst possible outcome. I’ve been spaced before. It killed me, but I got better.”

“Think you’ll always be so lucky?” Jack replied. “Always going to ‘get better’ from being spaced?”

Erin shrugged and lifted her left hand eyeing the scar that ran down the back of it, parallel to her fingers, diving it in half. Sometimes she could almost _swear_ it glowed faintly. It was one of the parts that didn’t have time to finish healing before she’d been so rudely woken up during the Lazarus Project’s explosive final moments. “Depends on how willing Ms. Perfect is to let her little ‘science experiment’ just float away with the rest of the trash, I guess.”

Jack frowned. “Ms. Perfect needs to mind her own fucking business sometimes.”

Erin shrugged again. “I’d still be dead if it wasn’t for her,” she replied. “I agreed to be part of a Cerberus mission because I’m not going to sit around and let everything in the galaxy _die_. Not so long as I can try to stop it.”

“Pretty big words for someone who not even five minutes ago said they wanted to die,” Jack replied.

“If I’d stayed dead, I could have ignored all this,” Erin replied. “But they brought me back and fuck it, if I’m going to be back, I’m going to stop the Collectors _and_ the Reapers. After that, maybe, _maybe_ I can die.”

Jack laughed, shaking her head slightly. “Tell you what. We make it through this suicidal mission to find the Collectors home—”

“We will,” Erin interrupted. “I’ve worked too hard getting you to smile to go and let you die on me now. I made that call with... I made that call before, I’m not going to make it again. No matter what else happens, I promise we’re _all_ going to make it back.”

“Even Ms. Perfect?” Jack asked.

Erin sighed. “Yes. Not because I like her or anything but because if she dies, the Illusive Man will probably kill me, and I’m not ready to die if defeating the collectors doesn’t also stop the Reapers.”

Jack tilted her head. “So, Ms. ‘Not-Ready-To-Die’ what do you want to do tonight?”

“No matter what we do,” Erin replied. “The others are gonna have so many stories about it once they realize you slept in this room.”

Jack laughed. “I see, you think we’re going to be sleeping.”

Erin shook her head. “Did you have another idea? I mean, the only other thing I wanted to do tonight was fix my helmet and I don’t think I even can.”

“I can think of plenty of things we could do,” Jack replied. “If the others are going to be telling stories, why not give them something to talk about?” She leaned over then, getting dangerously close to Erin’s face but stopped short of actually kissing her when Erin put a hand flat against her chest.

“Don’t,” Erin said, her voice uncharacteristically cold between them. “Unless you want the first thing you teach me to be whether or not I can break your nose.”

Jack smirked. “I’d say you’ve already learned the first lesson.”

“Which is?” Erin replied. “What exactly does that teach me?”

“That even though I think it’s a bit stupid of you to trust me, it’s not misplaced. Not about this,” Jack replied. “I _stopped,_ didn’t I? You might not have told me to with words, but I stopped when you wanted me to.”

Erin shook her head slightly. “You want my trust on this matter, then you wouldn’t bother _trying_ at all, without asking.”

Jack narrowed her eyes then nodded. “Let me try to kiss you?”

Erin frowned and shook her head. “Take this seriously, Jack. After everything I just told you do you really think I’d just let you kiss me?”

“Kissing and fucking aren’t the same thing, and I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Jack replied. “So yeah, I think you’d let me kiss you. I just... need to figure out how to ask properly, is that it?”

Erin sighed. “Is that all I am to you? You’re acting like this is some kind of game.”

Jack opened her mouth as if to reply but stopped short and then turned away. It took a moment, in silence, before she turned back around. “You know I’m not one for fucking feelings and shit like that,” she said. “So, let me explain it in simple terms for you, Erin Shepard. I think you’re fucking hot. Probably one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever met. And part of why you’re so beautiful is because of your personality. You’re nice, normally I hate nice, but you’re like fucking genuine with your nice. You almost make me believe you’ll actually keep that promise of yours to stay by my side.”

“What the hell does that have to do with kissing?” Erin practically growled in frustration. It didn’t make any sense to her.

“You put so much effort into everything you do,” Jack continued acting almost like she didn’t even hear Erin’s question. “You give a hundred and fifty percent of yourself to _everything_ you do. I mean, seriously. You literally told me you wished you were dead and less than an hour later were talking about how you basically _refuse_ to die until your job is done. Erin, there’s a _reason_ you’re a fucking hero. It’s a single word. Let me _show_ you. Please, can I kiss you?”

“How would a kiss—” She stopped. Jack just said ‘please.’ That was a word Erin didn’t realize Jack even _knew._ “You... Show me. Yes, you can kiss me.”

Erin wasn’t sure what she expected. She’d always imagined that kissing Jack would taste of smoke and whiskey. That her lips would be as rough as her attitude. Kisses from Jack, she’d imagined plenty, always likening them to mysteries. Never knowing what to expect. It was gentle and her lips were soft. Her mouth tasted strongly of mint and chocolate. She’d been drinking Erin’s hot cocoa, that explained where it was vanishing to.

Jack pulled away entirely too quickly in Erin’s opinion. There was some lesson she was supposed to learn, and that short questioning kiss hadn’t taught it. She dug her fingers into Jack’s jacket and pulled her back in. If Jack wanted a _kiss,_ then she was going to give her a kiss. There was a soft, feverish fire to her kiss that time. The heat of a hundred wished for but never taken kisses. There, in her hands, was the woman for whom she’d been pining since the day they met. She’d be damned if she let that woman slip away so easily.

When she pulled away, Jack smirked. Infuriating woman that she could be, the smirk was just another spark in the flame that Erin had tried for months to ignore. There were so many ways it could all go wrong, but would it really kill her to try to let it go right for once?

“What word would you use,” Jack said, “to describe a kiss like that?”

Lustful. Needy. Heated. Longing. Fiery. But were any of those what Jack wanted? She doubted it. “The same word you... the word that is why you like me?” Erin guessed. “That describes why I’m a hero.”

Jack nodded encouragingly.

None of the words she’d thought of fit that description. But there was, “Passionate.” That could describe a hero and a kiss. Or a heroic kiss, she wasn’t too picky.

Jack nodded again. “That’s why you’re a fucking hero, Erin. You’re _passionate_ , about everything you do. You give it everything you have and then some. That’s why you need to get help. That’s why you need more than just talking to Kelly to help you out. You want to be able to do more than just kiss me, don’t you? You can pretend like you don’t, but that kiss proved otherwise.”

Erin frowned for a moment. “From the moment I met you,” she replied, “I haven’t been able to figure out if I want to be in bed with you or _be_ you. I figured a good middle ground was to be your friend.”

Jack narrowed her eyes. “You don’t want to be me.”

“I thought I might,” Erin replied. “I want to be with you. I want to have you. I...” She bit her lip. The next thing she had to say would either piss Jack off a lot or be the thing that finally got Jack to realize exactly how unwilling she was to betray her like the others. “I want you to get as angry when someone tries to hurt me as you do when Miranda defends Cerberus to you. I want to mean that much to you, because you mean that much to me.”

“You don’t want me to be yours,” Jack guessed. “You just want to be mine.”

“I mean you being mine would be amazing beyond my dreams,” Erin replied. “But you don’t like to be tied down. I can’t say I blame you; strings make things complicated; strings make it easier for someone to hurt you. But essentially yes. I want to be yours.”

Jack nodded. “If you want to be mine, I suppose that’s something we can work out. You’ll have to learn to tell me when you want things that are happening to stop. I don’t mind getting pushed or pulled around. But this won’t work out well if you’re getting _hurt_ and can’t or won’t tell me to stop. I don’t want...” She sighed then let out a short little frustrated growl. Was she losing a battle with her feelings? “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I don’t want to hurt you. This isn’t something I’m saying lightly, but for now you have my trust. I don’t want to give you a reason to hate me.

Erin nodded and smiled, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on Jack’s cheek. “Look, I can’t promise you that I’ll be okay with everything you want to do to me. Some things are more complicated than others. There are some things that just... hurt too much thinking about. I know this has nothing to do with sex, but if I’m going to let you tattoo me, the first one should be my helmet.” She glanced back at the object in question, still on the desk. “On my shoulder.”

“Why?”

“It’s sentimental,” Erin replied. “It means safety to me. It’s symbolic. The woman who cares enough to go out of her way to make sure I’m not going to die on her, placing the permanent reminder of the _first_ people who cared about me enough to go out of their way to make sure I wasn’t going to die on them on my skin. I might not be able to fix the helmet. Physically it can be replaced, I have the schematics and specifications for it, but emotionally... I want to have it forever. If I can’t have the actual helmet, then I’ll settle for a tattoo of it.”

Jack stared at her for a moment, then chuckled. “You’re weird, Erin. Get enough things with your own name tattooed on you and people will start asking questions.”

“It’s not my real name,” Erin replied.

“Wait it’s not?” Jack asked, again with that tone like she was faking being shocked because she knew something Erin didn’t.

“No, my real name is Abigail,” Erin replied. “That’s the name I remember my mom calling me. Erin’s the name Mica called me, it’s a nickname, just like hers. All the mercs had nicknames, ours just happened to stick a little better. Abigail is the name on my Alliance records, so it’s probably also the name on the Cerberus records.”

“That explains why Ms. Perfect keeps calling you Abby,” Jack mused. “I figured she was just doing it to piss Joker off, it seems to do that really easily.”

“He knows I don’t like that nickname,” Erin replied. “But I’m... how did he put it...”

“I don’t know about Joker, but Garrus said you’re ‘too nice,’” Jack replied.

“Yeah, Joker said something that I assume means the same thing,” Erin replied. “I don’t feel like correcting Miranda about it. Me preferring a different name is less important than making sure this mission actually gets finished.”

“If you don’t like Miranda calling you that, then... I’ll tell her to stop,” Jack said, cracking her knuckles.

Erin shook her head. “I swear to god, Jack. If you make this lead to another fight where I have to stop you and her from tearing this ship apart with biotics, then I will _never_ let you have sex with me. On principle.”

“Fine,” Jack replied, almost growling the word. “I’ll make her stop _without_ physically fighting her.”

Erin chuckled nervously, stifling a yawn. “I think I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Jack chuckled. “You should have mentioned that you wanted to sleep because you’re tired, I thought you were just trying to avoid letting me have a little fun with you tonight.”

“I’m not tired,” Erin lied, yawning. She smiled sheepishly, hoping Jack wouldn’t pick on her about this. She was tired, but she really did not want to go to sleep. She felt horrible, emotionally, and that was usually a recipe for nightmares.

“Of course not,” Jack replied. “You’re not tired, and I’m not a pirate.”

“I want to be your first mate if we’re gonna be pirates when all of this is over,” Erin replied with another yawn, then she whined in annoyance at herself. “I need to feed the fish.” Maybe if she could distract herself enough that she stopped thinking at all, she could sleep without any bad dreams.

“What does one have to do with the other?” Jack replied. “Here, why don’t you go get dressed for bed, maybe take a shower first? I’ll feed your fish.”

Erin nodded. “That’s a good idea. You are going to stay tonight, right? You know you don’t actually have to.”

“I made a promise, Erin,” Jack replied. “I’m not stupid, you won’t talk to Kelly if I don’t stay.”

Erin sighed. “I’ll do anything for you, Jack. You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do.” She scratched at the back of her neck absentmindedly. “What I mean is, I will still talk to Kelly, even if you decide not to stay.”

Jack shook her head. “Erin, can you _please_ just accept that I promised I’m not going anywhere so I’m _not going anywhere_.”

Erin sighed, nodded, and then hugged Jack. Clearly Jack wasn’t quite expecting that because it took a moment for her to respond to the hug in any way. Erin smiled slightly against Jack’s shoulder when Jack hugged her back, and then stepped back. “Jack, there’s a lot of things I don’t remember and a lot that I do. I want to remember. Garrus says I’m... that I’m like a different person now, because of the things I don’t remember that I used to do. Even Tali and Dr. Chakwas have noticed. I... I don’t think it’s fair. One thing I remember for certain is which feelings in my head and chest mean I’m going to have a nightmare when I sleep. I don’t want to hurt you in my sleep.”

“Erin with all due respect to you as a solider and a person, I doubt you could hit hard enough to hurt me even when you’re awake,” Jack replied.

“I take offense to that,” Erin replied. “I’m strong enough to lift and carry Grunt.”

Jack chuckled and shook her head. “Lifting and punching are two different kinds of strength.”

“I don’t think so,” Erin replied. “Don’t get mad if I punch you while I’m sleeping.”

Jack nodded. “I won’t. Now go take a shower, I think you’re probably the only one of the crew that hasn’t tonight.”

Erin nodded and stepped away from Jack. “You’ll feed the fish?”

“I said I would, and I will,” Jack replied. “Do you want anything to drink before bed? Don’t you still have some wine in here from—”

“I don’t drink, not often,” Erin replied. “If you want the wine, you can have it. It’s in the little cooler under my desk. I also have soda in there. I wouldn’t mind drinking that, but I swear to god you drink my soda and I’ll space _you_. No one touches my soda but me, got it? It’s hard enough finding that stuff out here, much less when you were dead for two years, so your bank accounts and credit lines all got closed.”

It was surprising. No one had questioned her about the fact that she and Jack had spent the night together. Not Tali, who had seemed pleasantly surprised to be asked to join them out there this time. Not Garrus, who spent a good twenty minutes trying to figure out if _he_ could fix her broken helmet when Jack had given it to him and with the message that Erin had wondered where she’d gotten it from. Not even Miranda, who had every reason to be angry and suspicious since it seemed like she and Jack had been arguing about that same exact thing only a few moments before Erin had walked into the room in her armor.

“Why did you all get so quiet?” Erin asked looking over her companions.

They all seemed to shuffle nervously except Jack who simply shrugged and replied, “You’re looking better.”

“Are you feeling alright, Abby?” Miranda asked, pointedly ignoring Jack’s statement. “We were all worried about you, after what happened yesterday.”

“Don’t call her that,” Jack snapped. “It’s not her fucking name. She’s asked you—asked all of us—to call her ‘Erin.’ Tell me, Ms. Perfect, why the _fuck_ can all the rest of us manage to actually do that, but not you?”

Erin was surprised that Jack’s response came _without_ punching Miranda.

Miranda seemed to contemplate an actual response to that but was interrupted by Garrus and Tali.

“She has _never_ wanted to be called ‘Abby’ or any nickname based on her first name,” Tali said.

“It’s true, her sibling Mikah told us that even when they’d found her again as a teen, she hated being called by her first name. It’s why the mercs the Shepard family ran with called her Erin. Her middle name,” Garrus added. “You’d know this if you spent time actually talking to people who know her instead of lecturing us about what we’re expected to do as part of this ‘Cerberus mission’ which might I remind you wouldn’t even be _possible_ if not for Erin.”

Erin chuckled nervously. “I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t want a fight to start because of me. I saw Dr. Chakwas about it last night. I’m supposed to take things easy today but if we don’t find these mercs today they might run off before we can bring them to justice. Keep the fighting between yourselves to a minimum team. I don’t want any mistakes today.”

“Right, Erin,” they all, even Miranda, replied. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a rewrite of an old fic of mine called Shades of Courage, but I removed that old version to write this one because the old one had a lot of problems and I didn't feel like it met my standards anymore.


End file.
